


Subway

by Onehelluvapilot



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Hurt Aramis | René d'Herblay, M/M, Modern Era, POV Porthos, POV Third Person Limited, Protective Porthos, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25453936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Porthos finally talks to one of the regulars he sees on his commute, under different circumstances than he had hoped.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Subway

Porthos sighed at the lack of available seats when in the subway car. It’s not that they were all taken, but rather that all of the empty ones had either some suspicious stain, a visible wet puddle, or a whole needle sitting on them. The MTA employees did their best, but there simply wasn’t enough of them, or enough respect for them. The car was about half full, mostly with regulars as anyone who took this route often knew that the front of the train was the cleanest. He found a place next to a man he recognized who seemed to be asleep, chin tucked against his chest and arms crossed in front of him. There, he was less likely to get pickpocketed than near the group of teenagers in the middle of the car.

The stops passed quickly, for once without delays, and soon they were just two down from Porthos’ own block. He remembered, though, that the man who was sleeping next to him usually got off before he did, and was about to miss his stop.

“Hey,” Porthos said, leaning over to nudge his arm. The man woke with a start, whole body tightening for a second before a wince bloomed across his features and one hand moved to hold against the left side of his chest. Classic reaction to bruised ribs.

“Sorry, didn’ mean t’ startle you,” Porthos apologized. “This is your stop, though, right?”

The man glanced up at the screen and nodded. He had to grab the pole below where Porthos held it to get to his feet, and he wondered how long ago the beating had taken place. Now that the man had looked up, his black eye was visible. With how swollen it was, he wondered whether he could even see out of it, especially given his apparent lack of depth perception as he tried to make his way to the door. Porthos looked at the clock, and then back at the man before cursing under his breath and following him.

“Don’t make this a big deal, but imma walk you home,” Porthos said, falling in step beside the man. The look he received in response was the epitome of confusion.

“What?” he asked, voice a little slow, and Porthos added possible concussion to his assessment of him.

“I grew up this neighborhood, so I know that in the shape you’re in, you’d be mugged before you got two feet from the subway entrance,” he explained quietly as they went out through the turnstile and headed up the stairs towards the surface. The man walked slowly, holding onto the handrail as he limped up the steps. “You seem a decent man, and I don’t want to see that happen, so I’m walking you home.”

“How do I know you’re not just trying to find out where I live to rob me?” the man asked. Porthos shrugged.

“You don’t, but I at least promise not to beat you up any further, which is more than most muggers would do. Besides, it’s not like you could stop me, in your condition.”

The man paused and turned to look at him, clearly evaluating everything from his stance to his muscles. “You’re probably right,” he agreed, saying it in such a way that made Porthos think he knew what he was doing when it came to assessing opponents for a fight. “Thanks, I suppose, if you don’t rob me. The name’s Aramis.”

“Porthos,” he supplied in return.

“Well, thanks Porthos.” They kept walking, past stoops where the corner boys watched the two of them with a predatory look in their eyes. Aramis tried to straighten when they passed by, but his movements still indicated he was in pain. Porthos wondered whether it was one of the drug dealers or their muscle that had done this to him and put himself between the teenagers and the man he was trying to protect. He knew how they thought, and his presence would be enough to keep them from bothering Aramis now, but he’d have to be careful on his own way home.

“How’d you get beat?” he asked when they reached an empty block down a side street.

“Ah, y’know, just stuck my opinion in where it wasn’t wanted.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Oh hell yes,” Aramis said, and smiled for the first time Porthos had seen. It was a good smile, with lots of teeth and an edge that could easily turn it into a smirk.

“That does not seem like a recipe for a long life, my friend.”

“No, but it will be one well lived.” They came to Aramis’ apartment, the basement of rowhouse. Porthos stayed at the top of the stairs, so as not to crowd the man or make him worry that he really was a robber.

“Thank you, mon ami,” the injured man flirted as he unlocked his door. “I trust I will see you on the subway tomorrow?”

“Don’ get yourself beaten again on the way there,” Porthos advised. “I’d hate t’ miss you.” With a salute, the man disappeared inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Porthos decided to walk home rather than head back to the subway. As Aramis said implied, why not live dangerously while he was alive? Next time he saw the man, there was a certain chance he was definitely going to take.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like 40 minutes on a whim. I'd love to hear what you think of it though.


End file.
